


When You Hear Hoofbeats You Think Horses, Not Zebras

by QueerIsHere



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Cute Peter Parker, Cute Wade Wilson, Fluff and Angst, HIV/AIDS, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Sick Peter Parker, like HIV sick not morally evil sick, literally Wade is such a good guy, pop culture references that water my crops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 12:50:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14811707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueerIsHere/pseuds/QueerIsHere
Summary: Peter’s been sick for a long time, since he was last captured a couple months ago to be exact.He assumes the worse and Wade’s right by him along the way.ORThe one where Peter is diagnosed with HIV and another type of love-sickness for a certian ex-merc.





	When You Hear Hoofbeats You Think Horses, Not Zebras

**Author's Note:**

> YO I’ve been working on this for a while so I hope you guys like it! The idea’s been in my head for a while (I originally was gonna do a BNHA series but instead ended up doing a spideypool one-shot lol)
> 
> Thanks for picking my fic though! Many kudoses to you!

Peter was in the middle of his patrol when he began to feel faint.

 

He had been leaping from rooftop to rooftop like any other night, keeping both ears and eyes on high alert for anything out of the usual. Just as he landed on the apartment building off of his own street, he stumbled. Felt the nausea churning his intestines like week old stew and lifted his mask just a bit as he leaned against the side of an old brick chimney before losing what little lunch he had all over its side. Taking a few deep breaths to clear his head- and hopefully his stomach- Peter wiped his mouth and when the wind picked up just the slightest, caressing her fingers against his bare cheeks he realized how sweaty he was. Everywhere.

 

And  _ God  _ was he tired. It felt like every breath he took was forced after getting punched in the gut. Leaning against the brick wall and breathing in the scent of his own vomit and the stale city air he calmed down. Truth be told, this wasn’t the first time this had happened to him. For the past few weeks he’d been feeling more fatigued than usual. Before, he could go for long periods of time with only a couple hours of sleep a night but now he had to at least get around 5 to even get out of bed in the morning. Not to mention how cold he was too, like,  _ all the time _ . And when he wasn’t cold he was incredibly warm to the touch. He took his temperature the other day and he had like a 102 degree fever but passed it off to the fact that he had a high metabolism, not to mention his healing factor was burning the sickness right out of his system. 

 

So with not enough money to go to the doctor for a proper check-up, Peter took it upon himself to diagnose the illness as a simple viral infection and took the necessary medication. And that was it. He woke up the next morning, felt better, and moved on.

 

Now his skin felt like a thousand heating packs resting on a bunch of ice-cubes and every time he swallowed his throat scratched at itself like a cheese grater. Safe to say, he wasn’t feeling good at all and was about a few minutes away from passing out on that rooftop because  _ wow  _ the sky seemed to be spinning.

 

Peter closed his eyes, took a few more breaths and tried to refocus himself so that he wouldn’t accidentally topple over. Suddenly, there was a muffled voice that seemed to be pressed close to his ear but he couldn’t make heads or tails what it was saying. A warm hand touched his shoulder and he opened his eyes, looking up to see a twin pair of blank masked eyes boring into his own. Great. Wade.

 

“Hey there, Spidey! Feeling a little under the weather today? Yet you still took it upon yourself to look after the general public’s health rather than your own, huh? Isn’t that cute.”

 

Peter blinked away the fuzziness in his eyes, like they themselves were ringing, “Deadpool? What- Why are you here?”

 

The merc placed a hand over his chest and began speaking like a southern belle, “Well, little ol’ me was just out here yonder lookin’ for ma favorite taco cart when I saw you clutching at this dirty lil’ chimney like it was the only thing keepin’ you from floa’in away! Now bein’ the gracious person that I am,” If his eyes showed, Peter was sure the eyelids would be batting. “I decided ‘No sir, this will not do! My baby boy will not be out and about in such conditions! He should be home and in bed.’” Wade voice changed back to his normally cheerful tone, “Now I know that you’re a little stickler for being New York’s guardian angel and stuff but you look like you’re about to collapse. So, why don’t you let me escort you and your ass home. That sound nice?” Wade waited patiently for a response.

 

It was kind of scary how powerful the wave of relief washed over him at Wade’s offer, knowing that if he  _ were  _ to get back to his apartment, it’d be a lot more trouble than what Peter needed right now. And hell, the guy was a good (he used this term loosely) friend of his and he’d trust him with his life. Like now.

 

So he sighed and rolled his mask back down over his mouth, noticing the way the merc tracked the movement with a slight movement of his head before jerking back up in its previous position.

 

“Okay,” he said softly.

 

Wade gave a little excited screech and scooped Peter up in his muscular arms before taking off toward his home.

 

\---

 

It was only a short distance away but somehow Peter managed to doze off while he was carried. Flashing images of The Doctor smiling too widely, pulling at the wrinkles around his mouth and eyes along with various images of syringes filled with blood. ‘ _When was this again?’_ Peter asked himself subconsciously. _‘One month ago? Two?’_ Suddenly, The Doctor rolled up the sleeve of Peter’s hospital gown and went to insert the needle. _‘No. No.no nO no No No Stop it. Get away from me. Please stop pleas-’_

 

“Psst! Petey! Wake up!” Wade whispered into his ear, jolting the man back from the darkness of his dreams. “You’re back home. Come on wake up! Wakey wakey, baby boy-”

 

Peter groaned in both exhaustion and annoyance into Wade’s shoulder, feeling his body stiffen considerably, “I’m awake. Please. Stop.”

 

Clearing his throat, the man gently set him down on the couch before rummaging through the cupboards for a glass to fill with some much needed water. When he was finished, he carefully handed the cup to Peter and said, “Don’t drink too fast, you’ll hurt your throat and upset your stomach again. Smaller sips. Theeere we go. Good boy.”

 

Peter was gonna pretend that the flush on his skin was from his fever.

 

“I tried looking for some bread for you to munch on to calm down your tummy but I only found an empty carton of 1% milk, which by the way we have to talk about because that’s just unacceptable. 2% all the way, honey buns-,” Peter smiled the tiniest bit at that. “-and a box of Cookie Crisp cereal, which I will use as further evidence in the future as to why you are the cutest man to grace this earth but that’s besides the point. You been eating lately, Petey?”

 

Suddenly he felt more uncomfortable with the conversation than what was going on inside his body. Peter fidgeted in his seat, “Honestly, I haven’t been that hungry  _ at all _ .” Wade looked like he was about to scold him so he quickly added, “But that’s not to say I  _ haven’t  _ been eating, okay? I eat out every once in a while so it’s not like I’m  _ dying  _ or anything.”

 

Wade looked at him for a moment and put his head in his hands, “Lady Death save me once more,” He looked at Peter pointedly, “Peter Parker you absolute  _ buffoon.  _ I thought you were smarter than this shit! You know better than anyone how unhealthy it is to live off of tacos and other fine mexican goods for a long period of time! Now you got you and your cute butt sick because you weren’t careful!”

 

_ ‘Did I really though?’  _ Peter thought to himself bitterly, glancing at his right bicep where he had been injected.  _ ‘If I’m lucky that was nothing. It’s already been a couple of months since then, maybe this really  _ is  _ just a result of me being an idiot’ _

 

“Okay, okay,” He raised his hands in defeat, “I’m sorry. I promise to eat better and more often.”

 

Wade simply nodded and muttered to himself, giving answers to questions never spoken out loud. Peter decided he was too tired to keep his eyes open for a moment longer and picked himself up from the couch before dragging his feet to the bedroom.

 

“Petey?” Wade called out curiously. “You gonna get to sleep, sweetheart?”

 

Peter jerked his head up and down, calling out a soft good night and entered his room before closing the door to his room. Taking off his mask completely he made his way to his dresser, barely catching a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, too tired to care too much about the too dark bruises covering his jaw. With a sigh he undressed himself to his briefs and collapsed on the bed with a loud “OOF!” and crept under the covers. His teeth chattered as chills rattled throughout his body. He pulled the sheets closer. This would be a long night.

 

\---

 

Things weren’t looking too good. He knew it. Aunt May knew it. Even the Daily Bugle knew it, spouting out annoying headlines that constantly undermined Spiderman more than usual.

 

‘SPIDERMAN SEEN CATCHING BREATH DURING CHASE! ASTHMA OR LAZINESS?’

 

‘SPIDERMAN UNFIT TO BE HERO OR JUST UNFIT?’

 

God he took a break  _ once  _ and they were already spinning the most ridiculous stories… 

 

But really, they weren’t all that far fetched. Peter was just feeling bitter.

 

Over the last week he’d lost a whopping 6 pounds, even though he’d been attempting to at least eat two meals a day. Correction: Attempting to  _ keep down  _ two meals a day. Finally it got to the point where Tony literally begged Peter to see Bruce after shuffling into the lab the other day looking like a half-baked zombie. 

 

“He’s not an M.D but he knows enough about T-cells and the sniffles to work around it. Go see him, kid,” The billionaire said to him. “I know you’re a bit strapped for cash and I’d be more than willing to send you to an actual doctor but I also know that you don’t appreciate charity like  _ some  _ people. So just think of this as a visit with a friend who will take samples of your blood and urine to determine why you look like the human offspring of the demon girl from the Grudge.”

 

Peter was a bit relieved that he could finally get to the bottom of what was causing all of… of  _ this.  _ After so many weeks of feeling genuinely not like himself, maybe now he’d get some answers. His overall appreciation for Tony skyrocketed once more, but he was careful not to let it show too much. The man was prone to getting large heads.

 

But everything aside, he was scared.

 

Really,  _ really _ scared.

 

If this turned out to be what he thought it was then… well. Being injected with possibly contaminated blood gave him long list of possibilities. He didn’t know what to do. He knew it was stupid but the tiny stupid part of him that made him who he was almost  _ wanted  _ to never find out. But he knew that if this was a thing it had a name, and if it had a name then that made it real. 

 

_ This  _ was real.

 

Before going to get screened by Dr. Banner, Peter made a call to Wade and left a not so chill voicemail that may or may not have ended with “I’m really scared right now and you’re the only person that makes me not so afraid anymore” so he had that to mull over on top of everything. Way to go, Parker.

 

Peter waited outside of Dr. Banner’s office for a good 45 minutes even though the appointment wasn’t for another half an hour, just spending the time second guessing himself after spending every 5 minutes trying to build enough courage to just _knock on the door_ or something. He was pretty sure Bruce could see him pacing back and forth through his office window and somehow that just made the anxiety worse. 

 

“Mr. Parker, I suggest you sit down for a bit. You’re blood pressure is getting quite high,” Friday suggested kindly. One might never assume she was an AI programmed into that very building.

 

“Yeah, Pete you don’t look so good,” A voice sounded, making his head jolt up. Wade stood before him in a pair of grey joggers and a sweatshirt with the hood pulled up, “Not to say that you don’t look good right now- I mean you always look pretty- I mean your  _ ass  _ is pretty! See I’m objectifying you! This is completely normal banter and there’s definitely no underlying feelings here whatsoever! Nosiree!”

 

Peter reached out slowly and took a gloved hand in his, seeing Wade’s beautifully clear blue eyes widen at this, and leaned his forehead against it, “Thank you for coming.”

 

“That’s what she said,” Wade replied dazedly before shaking his head and sitting in the seat beside him, still holding Peter’s hand. They sat in silence for a moment before he decided to break it, “How long’ve you been waiting here for, baby boy?”

 

He shrugged, “Not that long.”

 

“Uh huh,” Wade rolled his eyes, taking in the full water bottle in Peter’s other hand, his knuckles white from gripping it too hard. “You’d better soften your hold or else that’s gonna burst all over you like a bukkake orgy.” Peter did as instructed but not before elbowing the man next to him in the ribs. “Sorry, sorry.”

 

“No you’re not.”

 

“I’m not,” Wade stated matter-of-fact, somehow making Peter’s heart do weird things in his chest again.

 

“Douche.”

 

“Hey, you’re talking to the ‘Merc with the Mouth’! Have some respect!”

 

Peter snorted, “Respect? You? That’s funny, sweetheart.”

 

“Why you-” Wade grumbled to himself and the boxes while sulking in his seat but still held tightly onto Peter. He always had such a funny way of taking the boy’s mind off of his problems whilst reminding him that he always had Wade’s support.

 

_ ‘Probably why you fell in love with hi-’  _ Nope. No. Not going there right now. Peter’s leg began bouncing with nerves.

 

They sat like that for the rest of the time until Bruce finally decided to call his work off and bring him in for the exam. Wade’s hand squeezed his.

 

Everything would be fine.

 

\---

 

The results weren’t in yet and Peter hasn’t moved from his apartment since. Barely saving enough strength to get up from bed to go to the bathroom, right now he’s pretty much been living day by day. 

 

Wade hadn’t stopped by to visit since the examination but he had at least walked Peter home, which was nice he guessed. He remembered only vaguely how the both of them kept quiet, the silence between them tense. He also remembered the feeling of Wade’s warm hand wrapped around his solidly. 

 

Finally, by the third day he felt too sick to move from his place kneeled in front of the toilet and ended up passing out there for a few hours. And when he woke he was tucked into his bed, his heart pattering weakly within his chest. 

 

The darkness of the room never used to bother him before but now it seemed more foreboding than comforting. He wrapped his arms around himself and curled up as small as he could underneath the sheets of his bed when he began to feel violent shivers rip through his body again. 

 

He clasped a hand over his mouth and closed his eyes tight as tears began leaking out, “Oh god”

 

“Petey?” Wade’s muffled voice sounded through the door. It opened, revealing him to be maskless yet still in uniform, a concerned look on his face. “You okay, sweetheart?”

 

Peter moved to wipe his eyes as inconspicuously as he could, thought Wade’s frown told him that he noticed, and tried to sit up with little success. 

 

“Here… let me,” The merc quickly helped him up against the headboard, fluffing up his pillow and placing it behind Peter’s back. He sat down beside him and took a hand in his, “Do you need anything else? Water? A blowjob? The lights turned on?”

 

Peter smiled, choking out a small laugh, “The lights, please. And maybe some water too… if it’s not too much trouble.”

 

“Anything for you, Pete,” Wade made his way to the kitchen, flipping the lights on as he went out. When he was back and Peter had quenched the dryness in his throat, he lied down next to him. “You feeling better?”

 

The boy smiled and nodded quietly, hands clenching the bedsheets tighter. “Yeah, thanks a lot. You really saved me.”

 

Wade scooted a bit closer, “Ah, I did what anyone with a pulse woulda done.”

 

“Yeah but  _ you _ did it.”

 

Wade stayed silent for a moment and pressed a kiss to the top of Peter’s head before stroking his hair lightly. This went on for a few minutes. Just him and Wade in that tiny bedroom. 

 

“Did Bruce call you back yet?” 

 

Well, now it was him, Wade, and the elephant in the room. Or maybe it was like that before and Peter just ignored it.

 

“Not yet,” Peter stated quietly and focused on how warm Wade was. “You know how it is at the tower, he’s probably buried under paperwork.”

 

“Yeah, but your his friend. A friend who needs help. If anything you should be priority #1,” Wade said stiffly.

 

Peter sighed and turned so he could press his face to Wade’s chest, feeling the leather on his skin and the heartbeat against his cheek, “We just have to wait. If he doesn't have the results by tomorrow, I’ll go talk to him.”

 

He felt Wade shuffle a bit next to him, “ _ I’ll  _ talk to him.  _ You _ can’t even walk right now.”

 

“I  _ can _ ,” Wade gave him a pointed look. “I just choose not to because everything hurts and I get dizzy when I do.”

 

“That’s cute, baby boy. Keep thinking that you have a choice in this stuff.”

 

That shut Peter up quickly.  _ Fuck don’t cry don’t cry don’t-fuck I’m crying. _ He felt his eyes begin to burn once more. Wade continued to look up at the ceiling, stroking Peter’s hair when he felt the boy trembling against him. He looked down and saw his friend in tears, a hand clamped tightly over his mouth. 

 

Instant Mama Bear Mode.

 

“Oh- oh Peter don’t cry. Oh I’m so sorry I didn’t mean- I was just being an asshole. Fuck, I didn’t realize I would hurt your feelings. Petey, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Wade repeated, rubbing soothing circles into Peter’s quaking back and shoulders.

 

The hero gasped out a sob, “Not you.”

 

“It wasn’t me? Then what, honey darling?”

 

“Just,” Peter took a few breaths to calm down. “Everything. There’s something wrong with me, Wade.”

 

Wade looked more worried than convincing , “Yeah, Petey. You’ve just got strep or something. By the time you get those results you’ll be all healed up.”

 

Peter shook his head, “That’s not what I mean. This isn’t some kind of flu.”

 

The silence in the room felt dense and frozen.

 

“You don’t think… cancer?” Wade sat up and asked, sounding smaller than a 210 lbs,  6’3” guy in his early 30s should.

 

Peter shook his head but then paused, “I-I have no idea.”

 

“Because if it is cancer there are… so many types of different treatments that you could do. I already have a doctor that I used to go to before,” he gestured to his face. “All of this. She’s nice if you take away the whole ‘I want your money but I’ll still tell it to you straight’ attitude she’s got going on. Not too bad looking too-”

 

“Wade.”

 

“Right. But seriously, Petey, we can beat this. Whatever it is.”

 

Peter felt the most supported in that moment than he had these past few months and was about 2 seconds away from kissing Wade silly. But he needed to tell him everything.

 

“Wade… there’s something I need to tell you. About the time I was kidnapped 3 or 4 months ago?” The merc nodded for him to continue and Peter told him everything. The torture, the experiments. Everything from what The Doctor was wearing to what he said.

 

Wade stayed silent throughout the time, completely uncharacteristic, and was genuinely a very good listener. He gave Peter every indication that he was following along and sympathetic as Peter talked.

 

When he finished talking, he was more quiet. Not in the way he had been before. Slowly, he stood and pulled on his mask before walking over to the window. He slid it open and moved to exit it before Peter stopped him.

 

“Wade! Wade wait! Where are you going!?”

 

The man that looked at Peter wasn’t the one he loved. This was Deadpool. Pre-Spidey Deadpool that wasn’t afraid to kill for money or much less. 

 

“I’ll be back,” he muttered and tossed his legs over.

 

“Please don't leave me,” Peter squeaked out, wide-eyes. This stopped Wade cold in his tracks.

 

The merc turned to the sick man slowly, looking back out the window and back at Peter. “Shut up! I know… I just want- fuck you White!” He muttered to himself.

 

The boxes? Peter hadn’t heard from them in a while, “Wade, please. Stay. Killing him won’t solve anything.”

 

He snapped his head to the boy, “It would solve  **everything.** That piece of shit doesn’t deserve to live after what he did to you, and I intend on making him hurt very very badly before I gut him.”

 

“You’ve been doing so good though! You haven’t killed anyone in a year and-and we’ve made so much progress!”

 

“I’d throw that all way a million times over to hurt the ones who hurt you,” he snarled making Peter recoil away just the slightest. Wade then finally blinked, the cold expression previously possessing his face now replaced with one of remorse. “Baby boy…”

 

Peter looked away from him and wrapped his arms around himself. He knew Wade regretted saying it but that didn’t change how scared Peter was. Not so much scared  _ of _ Wade as he was  _ for _ Wade. If it got to the point… would the merc go back to his old self when Peter was gone?

 

If. Not ‘when.’ Come on Parker, where’d all that famous Spidey positivity go?

 

When he looked back up, Wade was gone.

 

—

 

Peter didn’t sleep well that night, both Wade’s words and his sore throat keeping him wide awake. He decided that morning that instead of staying in bed all day, he’d walk to Central Park and take some photos, something he hadn’t done in a long, long time. 

 

When he arrived, he was pleasantly surprised to have found an open bench with how crowded it was. So he grabbed the camera hanging from his neck and began switching out lenses. That’s when he sat down next to him.

 

Without looking the other’s direction, Peter took a test shot of a flowering tree, “Hey, Dr. Banner. Good news I hope.”

 

Bruce looked at a pair of children that ran around squealing in the distance, “Do you want to do this here or at the office?”

 

Peter lowered the camera but still did not look at him, “Here, please.”

 

“It’s… before I continue I just- there are treatments for it. You can have it and still live a long, fulfilling life. This doesn’t mean the end.”

 

“I don’t even know what ‘it’ is Bruce. Can we start with that at least?”

 

Bruce sighed and rubbed a hand against the back of his neck, “You’ve got a scary low amount of t-cells in your blood, you’re showing all the signs and symptoms of someone with a low white blood cell count. You’ve got strep, your temperature fluctuates greatly. All of the tests are saying that you’re positive for HIV, Peter.”

 

There.

 

There it was.

 

“Oh, no way! I’ve been looking for this bird for a while,” Peter lifted his camera up, adjusted the zoom and took a picture. His hands were trembling.

 

Bruce slowly reached out a hand and patted him on the shoulder but said nothing. “When you’re done here, call me. I’ll set up an appointment for you with a specialist who can go over treatments and such.” He stood up, waving a soft goodbye before sticking both hands in his pockets and walking away.

 

Peter looked at the picture he just took with feigned concentration and wondered inwardly why it was so blurry. 

 

He wiped his eyes and gave a bitter chuckle.

 

Oh. 

 

That’s why.

 

—

 

That night, he sat on the roof of his apartment building in his regular clothes, one earbud blasting his favorite oldies hits while he stared up at the cloudless sky.

 

“Not good, huh?” 

 

Peter’s head whipped around so quickly his head swum and saw Wade in his usual hoodie and sweats, standing like a child about to apologize for something they did wrong.

 

Peter smiled closed-mouthed and patted the space by him with a hand. Wade settled down next to him and fiddled with his fingers, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you like that, I know how seriously you take me not unaliving anyone.”

 

“It’s not just you not killing anyone it’s you not being careless and getting  _ yourself  _ killed, Wade,” Peter sighed and turned to him. “I care about you too much to let you dive blindly into fights that are meaningless and costly. I won’t- can’t let that happen.”

 

Wade pulled off his hood and cupped Peter’s soft cheek, “I can’t die, Petey.”

 

Peter frowned and looked Wade straight in the eyes, “Yes you can. Many many many times. You always come back, but you do die. As a hero, it’s my job to make sure innocent people stay alive and safe.”

 

Almost like he was burned, Wade took his hand back and swallowed, “Is it…  _ just _ because you’re a hero? In my case at least?”

 

Peter felt his face redden, “Well, no. It’s also because I’m a human being with an extra high dose of sympathy for others in pain and because I’m your friend.”

 

Wade’s fingers ghosted over Peter’s, “That’s it? Nothing at all because of this unspoken thing between us?”

 

“Stop quoting Guardians in the Galaxy when we’re talking about something serious, Wade,” Peter snorted. “I’m not ready to talk about anything beyond  _ this _ right now,” Peter mumbled, eyes darting away from the shining ones directed right at them.

 

Wade looked like he wanted to say something else but reluctantly forfeited, “Okay. That’s fine. You want more time, you’ll get more time. Totally A-okay, baby boy.”

 

They sat, staring at the moon like it would know how to talk for them.

 

Peter decided to finally speak.

 

“It’s HIV.”

 

A little blunt but it was the best he could do. The many hours he’d spent concocting a long elaborate sonnet about his illness was now down the drain. Instead he rambled like an idiot. 

 

“I mean, thank god not cancer because at least with this I have a higher chance at living but at the same time HIV really sucks but I guess it’s my fault anyway and I’ll probably never find anyone who’s okay with it and wants to settle down with me and everything but also I’m gonna have to be living on medications for the rest of my life to regulate my t-cell production and also make me less contagious than I already am and I’m going to have to be extra careful now while fighting because god forbid I cut myself open and some bad guy like,  _ licks _ my wounds or something and-”

 

Wade reached over and placed a finger over Peter’s mouth, shushing him effectively. He then grabbed the boy by the shoulder and pulled him closer, “Not that I don’t love it when you talk, sweetheart, but this was  _ not  _ your fault. I get that you’re in the whole ‘time to be the better person’ phase of your grief but you’re allowed to get mad and scared. Don’t be afraid to let yourself feel something other than strong.”

 

Fuck.

 

Now Peter couldn’t  _ not  _ start to cry at that.

 

“Tha-That’s what I said to you the first time you took off your mask,” Peter gasped out into Wade’s neck.

 

“I think of that on all of my bad days. You’ve always been there for me when life decided to fuck up so I’m gonna do the same for you, baby boy.”

 

“Thank you. Oh, god  _ thank you _ Wade. Thought I was gonna be all alone again. People have left me for less.”

 

Wade tightened his hold, “I’ll never leave you. Never.”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“Okay, I know we’re having a moment but you totally just quoted ‘Bye Bye Birdie’ when I totally thought you would’ve gone with a ‘Falsettos’ reference! I’m disappointed in you, Wade.”

 

“Petey, no! I was trying not to be insensitive! Please don’t leave me for not dishing out my pop culture references this time!”

 

“I’m sorry, Wade… we’re through.”

 

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

—

A month later, Peter could already feel himself becoming  _ normal _ . He certainly felt as strong as before, though his stamina still needed to be worked on after having taken a break from vigilantism for a time.

 

Wade was the first to confess his feelings on one of their patrols together, almost getting Peter injured with how he nearly fell off of the building he was standing on. Soon after they began their relationship, overly cautious with kissing and other… intimate means.

 

Peter told Tony and the rest of the Avengers of his illness, some reactions were good, some bad. That was to be expected though, the virus has been misinterpreted by many people for years. He’s had to explain it to Thor at least a dozen times himself since Gods like him don’t have such mortal sicknesses. Eventually all of them stopped being so cautious around him and began treating him like before (though they were a bit more concerned for his safety now than last time). 

 

They ended up finding The Doctor in one of his safe houses. He was promptly arrested and taken away, the police turning a blind eye when Natasha and Wade were a bit rougher than what was allowed. Peter ended up testifying against him, something it had taken a long line of convincing and fighting to do. His face ended up all over the news which got him an, again, both good and bad rep.

 

He got fired from his job at the Daily Bugle (oh yeah he still worked there?) because of it instead of his absence. He sued, ended up winning and now he had enough cash to practically retire early (he wouldn’t but the thought had crossed his mind once or twice). 

 

Tony and him spent more time researching possible cured for HIV/AIDS than before, the billionaire even donating large sums of cash to charities. If someone ever called Tony Stark heartless, Peter would like to have a word or two with them.

 

He ended up adding a few updates to the spidey suit as well. Putting in a new mechanism that cauterized any small open wounds closed and cleaned blood. Stuff like that. As if his job couldn’t get any cooler.

 

So Peter kept beating up baddies and saving people like he was meant to do, even with this dumb illness in his body. If he’s learned anything it’s that if Life shuts a door, Opportunity opens 4 other windows, nothing is truly hopeless even when it seems like it might be. With Peter, he has an amazing support system (his friends, Aunt May, and Wade) and some wonderful meds that have worked to give people like him a normal life for many, many years. 

 

There were bad days of course, where he’d suddenly contract a high fever because he metabolized the medicine too quickly or others where he just couldn’t even look at himself in the mirror. 

 

But again, he was hopeful. 

 

This was something he could fight, just like the bad guys on the streets. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Follow my tumblr @tabrasswrites for more fandom-esque content and updates on my writing :) don’t forget to leave comments and kudos! <3


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